


in the last place you’d expect

by amorremanet



Series: “three sentence” AU meme fics: VLD [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Merpeople, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ficlet, First Meetings, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Meet-Cute, Merman Shiro (Voltron), References to Depression, Tumblr Prompt, originally posted on twitter, twitter prompt but same difference honestly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-21
Updated: 2019-04-21
Packaged: 2020-01-23 13:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18550813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amorremanet/pseuds/amorremanet
Summary: Lance lives in a soul-crushingly mundane seaside town where nothing special ever happens—and then he spots a mysterious tail-fin that’s too big for any fish.





	in the last place you’d expect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genovianprince](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genovianprince/gifts).



> Originally written for Alex/genovianprince in **[the current round](https://twitter.com/amorxremanet/status/1120013718438469635?s=21)** of that good old, “Give me a pairing and an AU, I write ‘three sentences’” meme, and originally posted **[here](https://twitter.com/amorxremanet/status/1120055508877156352?s=21)**.
> 
> Cross-posted to AO3 on mobile during Easter lunch because I’m a masochist and figured this was probably easier for most folks to read than screencaps on Twitter.

The first time Lance glimpses that glimmering flash of black, that flutter like something splashing, he thinks it must be a dream. Except he’s not asleep, so more likely, he’s going crazy. Maybe he’s getting fooled by a trick of the light, nothing more than late afternoon sun glancing off the seawater in a way that Lance only wishes meant something special. 

_Of course_ , he muses to himself, drawing spirals in the sand with a stick. _Why wouldn’t I want to see mermaids where there aren’t any? Nothing special **ever** happens here._

Once upon a time, people said that Lance’s seaside hometown had magic woven into the very bricks and wood that made the buildings. They whispered about the spells and charms allegedly flowing through the bolts and mortar that held together the homes and shops and cobblestones. An old tale claimed that the King of the Sea himself had put the freshwater spring in the center of town with one strike of his trident. As a child, Lance grew up hearing that the same Sea-King had pulled back the ocean so the merfolk’s human brethren could thrive. 

Now, he’s twenty-two and sighing at the horizon, simmering with resentment because the world doesn’t live up to any of the wonder that he was promised. There isn’t any magic. There are no mermaids. Fairytales are lies adults tell children so that they’ll behave. 

Nothing means anything special anymore, especially not in this nowhere town and much less in Lance Esparza’s entire life. That truth sits in the pit of his chest like boulders, weighing down everything until some days, he doesn’t want to get out of bed. If not for his work at the family tailor-shop, he’d stay inside on those days and never see anyone. 

But then, as he’s stretching and wondering if he should stop at the bakery on his way home—Meemaw’s been ill, lately, and some of Hunk’s pastries might make her smile—Lance spots another flash of black. Something swooshes up out of the water. The setting sun only lets him see a silhouette, but there’s no mistaking that shape: webbed fins, attached to a tail that dips below the surface, too thick to belong to any normal fish. Rubbing his eyes, Lance groans. By the time he’s blinking at the sky again, the tail’s disappeared. Is all of this in Lance’s head? Has he lost his mind from boredom, from wanting some magic in his life so badly? 

Shallow breaths shiver into him, and a cold wind blowing across the beach doesn’t help. Lance hunches in around himself but skinny as he is, he’s never had an easy time staying warm. Heart in his throat, skin breaking out in gooseflesh, he fixes his eyes on the sea. He forces himself to inhale slowly, evenly. One deep breath—no sight of the tail. Two deep breaths—still nothing. Three deep breaths—maybe he should just go home, before his bones freeze over or he gets himself sick. 

Four deep breaths—Lance squishes his toes in the sand, and he starts turning— 

The tail whips up again, flipping as if nothing is or ever has been wrong. 

Lance takes off down the beach. He leaves his bag and doesn’t let himself think better of it. As he charges through the waves, water splashes around his ankles, then his calves, and then his knees. His shorts rustle in the wind, even as their legs slip into the ocean with him, and for the briefest moment, Lance allows himself to hesitate. He palms at his pockets—good, he doesn’t have his phone. All his nerves scream and wail at him, protesting how cold the water is and how it cuts down to his marrow, sharper than a knife. 

But when he spots that tail, Lance launches himself into the sea. For all he’s scrawny, Lance is the strongest swimmer in town. He takes to the water like he belongs here, pushing himself out further and further, out where he thinks he saw those fins. Not that he can judge—he’s a human being, not a living Hubble telescope—but after a few long moments, maybe he’s gone far enough? 

“Hello?” Lance calls out at the air around him, treading water. He’s far enough from the wharf, no boats come near him, not even stray fishermen who could hear him. But what if the tail isn’t real—“ _Hello_?” he tries again, heart pounding. “My name is Lance—you’re swimming out here—” _Schwap!_ —Lance yelps as a large fin smacks him in the face. 

A frustrated groan cracks out of him as he scrubs both hands at his face. Once the sea water’s all spit up, his mouth takes the reins for itself and splutters, “What was _that_ for!” 

“Are you _crazy_?” A deep, smooth voice snaps at Lance, then sighs. “Do humans not _look_ at each other when they’re talking?” 

_Wait, what_ —Lance’s hands drop off his face. Gasping, he blinks down at the water and a set of warm, gray eyes, narrowed at him as if he owes them something. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t breathe at all as high cheekbones, a jaw that could cut diamonds, and broad shoulders emerge from the water. Thick hair clings to an exquisite neck, all black, except for a clump of white bangs, framing their face. One of the shoulders leads down to a huge, tawny bicep; the other ends abruptly, in a stump that’s wrapped in kelp and twine. 

“What are…” Lance trails off, noticing slits on the stranger’s neck: _gills_. “You—you’re a mer…” 

“You’re perceptive,” they deadpan, and it makes Lance’s heart twist—but then, a small smile lights up the stranger’s face. “My name is Shiro. And I’m sorry for my manner. I’m not used to humans noticing me—not unless they mean ill.” 

Eyes wide, Lance shakes his head. “I would never,” he promises. “I only—I saw you swimming out here, and I had to come see, right? I had to know—know if you…” 

Lance only wishes he knew how to end that sentence—but Shiro chuckles and keeps smiling. “So, did you find what you were looking for?” 

“Yeah, everything,” Lance whispers before he can think better of it. “Everything, and so much more.”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Personal reactions/interpretations
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
>   * Comments made with the [LLF Comment Builder](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/post/170952243543/now-presenting-the-llf-comment-builder-beta).
> 

> 
> The author reads and appreciates all comments, and gets back to all of them eventually, but may be slow to reply due to trying to rein in the ADHD/anxiety cocktail.
> 
> If, for any reason, you don’t want to receive a reply, just put, “whisper” near the start of your comment, and I’ll appreciate it without replying.


End file.
